LZR-1143: Redemption (14 page)

TWENTY-ONE

It was almost unreal, the feeling of moving across the western expanse in a train. I had never really taken a real train, I realized, bemused as I stared at the ceiling from the warm comfort of the small bed. Commuter trains and subways, sure. But never a cross-country trek or an alpine discovery tour. I had always wanted that escape—that blissful knowledge that you’re trapped on a large object moving far too fast to stop on a moment’s notice. That type of permanency was a thing of the past in the modern world that existed right before the fall. I had always wanted that.

But this wasn’t bad either, I thought, smiling as I looked at Kate’s sleeping form next to me.

The blinds were drawn to shield us from the sun’s rays, and I knew it was just my imagination, but the room felt uncomfortably hot, even though I couldn’t see more than a sliver of sunlight through the thick felt curtains that closed behind the blinds. I shifted in the bed after checking my watch. We had managed to sleep for more than eight hours, and it was nearly four in the afternoon.

Perfect adherence to our nocturnal, vampire-esque schedule.

Kate stirred, and I turned my head, intending to go back to sleep. My eyes started to drift closed, and then I heard it.

The light, deferential tapping on the door.

Deferential meant it couldn’t be Ky and Romeo. They’d be in the room already.

I willed them to go away, closing my eyes and wishing it to be so.

Knock knock.

Again, light and deferential.

Balls.

I tried to extricate myself from Kate’s various limbs, but she was like a sleeping spider monkey, and there was an arm or a leg everywhere. It took me two more knocks to get out of bed and onto the floor. I stumbled to the door and cracked it open just enough to speak at a whisper. A ray of sunlight blasted through the small space, and I winced in pain, my eyes flaring as if someone had shined a spotlight directly into my cornea.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. McKnight?”

“No, Mr. Potato Head,” I started, then took a breath. Confusion wafted from the other side of the door.

“Yes, what’s up?”

The voice was very young. Late teens, tops.

“Major wanted to see you if you’re up, sir. Are you… I mean…” It seemed to just occur to the boy what might be going on inside the room. What I wished was going on right this second.

I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the warm bed, where an incredibly long and alluring leg was flopped out of the bed like a sexy dead fish.

“Yeah, okay. Give me ten,” I said, and shut the door.

My clothing wasn’t hard to find, and I truly wished for a washing machine as I grimaced at the flakes of dried blood. The material was Teflon coated, and repelled most major spills and… stains… but it didn’t protect from everything.

I grabbed the specially designed wrap-around sunglasses and slipped them over the balaclava as I left the room. I felt absurd, dressing that way in the afternoon—inside—but it was necessary. Any sunlight on the skin was starting to burn in noticeable ways—actual dermatological damage, complete with rash and blistering. I had first noticed it on the airplane, when I had my face cover off. The side effects were starting to accelerate, and I wasn’t sure what was next.

At least the strength wasn’t fading, I thought, as I slid the door shut and made my way toward the front of the train. Outside, the countryside was stunning. Even in the midst of what I knew was the likely end of an entire era of humanity, if not humanity itself, I found myself awed by the sheer beauty of the western countryside. Rivers and plains met snow-capped mountains in the background, and fields of wheat, unattended for months, still swayed slightly in the afternoon sun.

What a place.

It was worth fighting for, this world.

Major Gaffney had taken up residence in a very unassuming third class car, and was seated at a simple bench staring at a map and speaking on a large satellite radio. He smiled widely as I approached, and signaled abruptly to a lieutenant near him to lower the shades in the car. As the last one fell, I slipped the head cover off and put the sunglasses back on. Still squinting in the bright cabin, I sat down across from the slight man, noticing the scar along one side of a thin, weary face. His dark eyes were untouched by the smile he gave.

“Mr. McKnight, a pleasure. We’re sorry about the crew of the plane, but we can’t tell you how much we appreciate the support. Without the time you bought us, and the ability you gave us to redirect that onslaught of undead, we wouldn’t have gotten loaded up. You really saved our asses, there.”

I shook my head.

“It’s not me you need to thank. Those pilots and that airman did an amazing thing back there, getting that bird up and firing like they did. Those men are the heroes, not me.”

He cocked his head slightly, then nodded. His eyes were curious, but he moved past the moment.

“Well, regardless. It was a tough slog through the city. I’m sure you understand we couldn’t wait—”

I interrupted him curtly.

“Listen, Major. I was getting a great sleep on in my cabin, and between us men, I had a hell of a bedmate. So if we’re just going to chat, I’d just as soon…”

“There’s a truck on the tracks.”

I stopped as he spoke.

A truck.

On the tracks.

Always something.

“Okay, so… I’m sorry, but… what?”

“A large tanker, to be exact. About seventy miles ahead. We’re going to need to stop and move the tanker.”

“How do you know?”

“Satellites,” he said, and held up his phone. “We have good comms with Seattle, and they’re relaying directly from the Pentagon.”

“So, how do I fit in? I would rather sleep while you take care of it.”

He simply stared, then glanced at several of his men while I watched.

“Well, you have certain gifts that my men lack, and… well, none of us have had the vaccine yet, so…” He seemed to think I should be intuiting the answer to my own question.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said, yawning. “You want me to go outside, move the truck, get back on board, and we all get hopping on our merry way. And if I get chowed down on, I just brush it off and keep on truckin, right?”

His face was serious, as if thinking he had offended me.

“Well,… I suppose…”

“How do you know there are any of those things around?” I asked. “Maybe a couple of your guys can jump out, move the truck, and get back on board, easy-peezy?”

“Satellite,” he said simply.

I watched as his eyes flickered, as if unsure of himself. His face was tired, but he was earnest and serious.

“You’re not WestPoint, are you son?”

His eyes widened slightly, then looked over his shoulder once as if concerned that his other officers would hear. Then, smiling as in a sense of sudden defeat, he shook his head.

“No. Hardly. Idaho State. I was an accountant when this thing started. We’re in… We were in the Idaho Guard. I guess it’s all just big Army now.”

I nodded, standing up.

I had long ago surrendered to this hero thing. I didn’t mind the work. It was the attention I didn’t want.

“Give me a twenty minute warning. We’ll see what we can do.”

He cocked his head slightly.

“We?”

I laughed loudly, startling him and his men. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly let the smile fade away.

“Yeah, boss. We. You see if I’m able to get away with pulling a lone ranger. You met my girlfriend?”

I looked down at the table, where a small box of incredibly unhealthy sugar cookies lay open and on its side. I grabbed the box, and turned away.

“Oh, and Major?”

There was a pause, and then a short response.

“Yes?”

I gestured out the window, pulling my balaclava back over my head.

“We’re gonna have some weather.”

He looked as if to stare through the window, but then realized that the blinds had been closed. He looked back to me, confused.

I was like a damn portable rain dance. Wherever I went, there they followed. Air or land, train or plane.

Glorious.

“I can hear the thunder,” I said shortly, rubbing an ear unconsciously.

“Huh,” he said, staring at the wall, as if trying to see through the thin metal and cheap carpet lining the cabin.

I grunted as I stuck a dry cookie in my mouth through the small opening in the mask, and opened the door.

TWENTY-TWO

Lightning flashed in the distance, and the low, vibrating pitch of thunder pealed in the distance. The plains stretched out on either side of the black iron tracks that curved off into the distance, and fields of long, dry grass swayed in the heavy wind. No rain was falling yet, but the scent of the impending moisture was heavy in the air.

“I’m just saying that if I were gay, that’s who I’d choose.”

I slipped as I tried to move the last car out of the way, pushing too hard and stumbling as the rear end of the small hatchback fell heavily to the ground, nearly missing my foot.

“What? You disagree?” Her voice was light as she hung from the running board of the large tractor that was attached to an even larger tanker-trailer, stretching across the tracks at the lonely intersection.

Ahead of us, a long string of cars was stopped, doors open to the elements, some suitcases and clothing strewn in the muddy ground and across the gray cement of the aged roadway. In one direction lay the onramp to a large interstate. In the other direction, the telltale features of a small town, silos and the outlines of several larger buildings close on the horizon.

Nearly fifty of the creatures lay on the ground around us, heads and torsos destroyed.

We were coming to enjoy the destructive power of the new weapons, even as we were coming to appreciate the scarcity of our remaining ammunition.

But the blades were fun, too.

“No. Hell no, in fact. I just thought you were more of an Anniston type, not a Jolie. But I’ll take the mental image, no problem.”

I was taking it in now, in fact.

“How about you?” she asked innocently.

“Come on, you know this game doesn’t work for guys,” I yelled, absently kicking the rotten arm of a corpse away from the front wheel of the car I had been moving.

“Why not?” she asked, offended.

“Cause it just doesn’t,” I said. “Besides, I know most of the guys in Hollywood. It’s like asking me which dude in my office I’d make out with. Fat Filbert from accounting, or Pimply Pete from sales. No fun.”

Under her face cover, I knew she was making a face at me as I returned to the cabin of the truck.

“Nope, I don’t buy it. You have to pick someone. Come on, I played. You have to play too.”

“Oddly enough, I didn’t start this game,” I said, giving her a sideways look she probably missed, given that our eyes were entirely shielded from the sun.

Another sharp clap of thunder, much closer now, shot through the cabin of the truck as I sat down. She continued to hang from the mirror of the open door, eyes scanning the area for movement.

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta kill the time. Besides, I enjoy thinking about how it was… before. You think she’s still out there somewhere? In California?”

Oddly—and provocatively—her voice was hopeful.

“You know, when this is all over, I guaran-fucking-tee we will go find out, one way or another.”

She chuckled.

“What about her husband?”

I grunted.

“I played poker with him once,” I said, “He’s actually not a bad guy. A little pretty for my taste, but… Hey. None of that.”

She laughed from the belly, and I turned away.

The truck started on the first try, and I snorted in surprise.

The fuel in half of the cars on the roads now was starting to become old, and the lower the grade of gasoline, the faster it decayed. I remembered once playing a part in a low-budget apocalypse movie, where ten years had supposedly passed between the asteroid strike and the events of the movie. My character was wandering the abandoned highways—which looked nothing like the real ones, with the blood and the clothing and the scent of despair—trying to find cars with keys in the ignitions. No thought for the state of the battery that fired the ignition, or the state of the fuel that would have long lost the chemical composition necessary to run a modern combustion engine. He just found some keys, and the engine turned over. I remember, even then, thinking how unrealistic it was.

And here I was, months after the apocalypse, turning a key left conveniently in the ignition, and feeling the comforting roar of the massive diesel engine coming to life.

“Uh, Kate?” I asked, this time trying to hide my shame.

“Yeah, yeah. Move over.” She slid in next to me, and shut the door.

I couldn’t drive the big truck.

“You know, for a guy manly enough to think about sleeping with…”

“Just don’t say the name, okay? I know the guy. And you’re not right. I’m just saying that if we went looking for his wife, that…”

“Whatever, man. Whatever.”

She pulled the gearshift into first and patted my leg condescendingly.

The massive diesel engine roared with a satisfying heavy rumble, offsetting the equally heavy rumble from the storm clouds in the distance. The front bumper caught the rear of the small car in front of us and pushed it gently to the side. Between the two of us, we had managed to clear the obstructions in front of the large machine, and we needed only to move the large trailer across the tracks to provide the train enough space for passage.

In the distance, horizontal lightning streaking across the sky, lighting the clouds, and flashing in my sensitive eyes. Blinking, I turned away, watching as Kate maneuvered the large truck forward, navigating between smaller cars until the trailer was several yards clear of the tracks. Leaning out of the open driver’s window, I shouted once when we were clear, and the diesel rumble disappeared into the afternoon air that was nearly crackling with the electricity of the coming storm.

“Calling it?” I asked, jumping down.

“Roger that,” she threw back, slamming the door behind her, as if concerned that the rain would damage the interior. Several large drops had hit the pavement, and the gray was speckled in small, dark spots.

“Status?” crackled the small ear bud, and I jumped involuntarily in surprise.

Shaking my head, I touched the transmit button as I readjusted the shotgun slung around my shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re done, Major. Give us three minutes to get back in…” I was cut off by the clear and high-pitched tone of a child’s scream.

Kate’s head shot around, and she was staring into the distance as if sniffing the air.

Another scream tore through the air and she tilted her head slightly, locking her eyes on the source, and saying only, “There.”

Then, she was gone, sprinting forward.

“Major, stand by,” I said curtly and followed her.

The road was lined on either side by alternating strips of wheat and long grass, and in the weeks and months since the infection, it had grown long and wild. Kate bolted through the foliage as if it didn’t exist, hand flashing toward her belt, and a glint of steel announcing the appearance of the large blade.

Closer now, the thunder pealed again. Lighting followed shortly after, and I grimaced as the flash pierced the thick, heavy sunglasses.

One last scream shot into the afternoon, ending in a heavy grunt, and we saw a clearing ahead, where a short fence surrounded a small pump, gravel all around keeping the weeds and long grass from sprouting.

A small child lay on the ground, darting between an array of pipes and heavy steel tubes, trying to use the obstacles as a shield between her and a heavy, gray corpse, whose dirty clothes blew in the increasingly forceful wind. The bloated face and red eyes underneath a thick shock of red hair lacked an eye and an entire cheek on one side, and the creature—it had been a woman—moved clumsily between the array of spidery plumbing, hands darting down awkwardly as the child moved.

Kate growled deep in her throat, and the machete whirled in her hand, shearing the head from the body at the collarbone. As the corpse dropped to the ground, the body crunching into the gravel, she grabbed it by the rags of its shirt and stood it up again, plunging the blade into the torso, and tearing the blade upwards, splitting the rotten flesh down the middle.

The thick chest cracked in two between two large, floppy gray breasts, and clotted blood dropped from the cavity like spoiled curd, hitting the ground in thick globules.

“Kate,” I started, but she was done. She pushed the body away, sending it spinning obscenely into the thick grass.

Under the complex array of pipes, the small child—a little boy—scurried to one side, clearly frightened by the appearance of such fierce and masked individuals.

Thunder pealed even closer now, as my ear bud crackled again and large raindrops smacked against the dusty ground.

“McKnight, what’s going on?” asked Gaffney, voice slightly elevated but still calm.

“We found a kid out here, give us a minute.”

Kate was on her knees, motioning to the child, whose eyes were wild and darted between the two of us, worried and feral looking.

Kate’s voice was soft, and her mothering tone was clear. Underneath her heavy hood, I knew her eyes were worried and anxious.

“Come on, sweetie. It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

The child was shaking, now. Her voice seemed to bother him more.

He was going to bolt.

“Kate, he’s…”

A bolt of lightning suddenly lit the sky like a flash bulb, close enough that we could feel the static, and we both instinctively covered our eyes.

The long grass shuffled, and we blinked the flash away, seeing the evidence of the child’s flight. Cursing, I hurdled the array of pipes and followed him, Kate close behind.

We crossed the tracks, watching his small form dart across a small field, then across another road. He must have been around nine or ten, and he was at the age where he was fast enough to be difficult, but not strong enough to be self-sufficient. But he was proving a tough catch.

He clamored over a small fence and along a narrow gully that stretched toward the closest town. I looked over my shoulder and realized Kate wasn’t there, but as I reached for my comms, I saw a black-clad form shoot in front of the small child, grasping him in a bear hug and picking him off the ground.

Catching up, I scanned the area. We were on the outskirts of the small town near the tracks, and a large silo stood between us and a narrow, concrete main street, jammed with abandoned cars.

“Major, we’re plus one, and on our way back,” I said, and the boy started to struggle against Kate’s grip, pushing against her arms with his limbs, flailing desperately.

“Copy that,” he said. “Be advised, the storm that is inbound is large and unfriendly. We’re battening the hatches.”

I watched as the child struggled even more, and I thought I understood. Kate grunted as an elbow caught her in the stomach.

“Do you understand me?” I said, crouching down, wisely staying out of range of the kicking legs and punching arms.

He stared, going still, as if contemplating whether he should answer. Behind Kate, I watched as a single zed slunk out from behind the silo, shuffling slowly toward us.

“Do you understand what’s happening?”

He stared, then nodded slowly.

“Are you alone out here?”

He turned, his dirty brown hair blowing in the strong wing, bright blue eyes misting. He shook his head.

The thunder rolled again, and the rain let loose.

“Where are they?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the torrent of rain that was slamming to the ground.

Hesitant, he raised an arm, pointing toward the town. Kate turned her head, seeing and dismissing the single creature as she followed his arm.

“Can we put you down? If we promise to help them, will you promise not to run?”

He didn’t move, and I stood.

“You saw what she did back there, right?”

The zed was close now, only twenty feet away. The child was just staring, still frozen. A demonstration was in order.

“We can protect you. We can help them. Your dad? Your mom?” He nodded, as if despite his better judgment.

I rose slowly from a squat, and walked to the shambling form, whose tattered clothing reeked of mold. It hissed, teeth flashing in the rain. My hand shot out, taking the thing by the throat and lifting it from the ground.

“We’re not afraid, son. We’re not afraid of these things. We can help.”

He watched, then opened his mouth and spoke, voice near tears.

“It’s not them—not the dead people. It’s real people.”

Then he began to cry.